Beneath Her Stare
by Jusrecht
Summary: Hundreds of lifetimes ago, this was an empire who believed in gods. Suzaku-centric.


**Beneath Her Stare  
Author: Jusrecht**

**Characters/Pairing: **Suzaku/Suzaku (not what you think)

**Notes:** A result of tons of stress and the wrong kind of inspiration.

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Hundreds of lifetimes ago, this was an empire who believed in gods. They ruled the heavens and walked the clouds, touched the earth and crossed the seas. Seasons were the testimony of their powers, rains and harvests their benevolence, storms and thunder their wrath. They came and protected these lesser beings which populated the lands, taught them obedience, and blessed their ruler as the descendant of the sun.

Hundreds of lifetimes later, humans learn to place themselves above gods. They break through boundaries and seize the law from nature's hand, confident of their own wisdom. They seek reasons beyond their understanding, travel distances only gods have ever sailed, and build towers high enough to scrape the sky. They spill the blood of the earth and dig out her heart, call it the stone of sakura and put a price on its pieces. They have forgotten what their ancestors told to keep in memory, abandoned tradition for greed they have long since called 'discovery'.

Like many of the gods, she is slowly diminishing. The fire that once brightly burned and clothed her is now small flickers of tatters, struggling for life on her fading skin. Summer comes and passes, and her anger affects nothing, not even the leaves that used to shine bright green under her sun. She touches the soil and her tears only pool on grey concrete, separating her forever from the dying earth. She mourns, she hates, she weeps, all for nothing since no one heeds her voice anymore.

She will disappear, and the time will come soon.

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He was born when she was little more than a spectre, all ready so weakened that no one could see her anymore. He was the son of this empire which had tumbled into decline, but it was not the land or the blood which bound her to him.

It was his name.

She watched him grow, all the way wondering what kind of mortal dared to wield her name. She frowned at his flaws, laughed at his mistakes, and smiled at his beauty. He was fickle, like any other mortal, naive, like so many of his kind, imperfect, in ways that endeared him to her. He looked at the sky, imagining a mother he had never seen, and clenched his fists, wishing for a father who had never been there. She reached out and touched his hands, trying to uncurl his small fingers until she realised that he could not feel her.

And she watched him fall, all the way wishing that she could catch him. His country burned, earned its punishment for turning their back against the gods, and bowed its head before a new ruler far more cruel than they had ever been. She would have laughed and disappeared an appeased but bitter spirit, if only he had died with her.

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She remains at his side. She is there when he fights for his ideals, when he swears allegiance to his suppressor, when he waits for the world to understand. She is there when he watches his princess die, when he betrays a friend, when his world slowly loses a shade of its colour every day. She is there when he goes against everything he believes in, when he kills a friend he has sworn to call enemy, when he weeps tears no one else sees.

Loneliness is now his only friend, has been since he took up the black mask and donned the dark cape around his thin shoulders. She cradles his dream while he is sleeping, the only thing intangible enough for her to touch, and whispers comfort he will never hear. Her wish to be heard is now stronger than ever, for him, but she is weak – and he is weak – and so she still remains at his side.

There were better times, times when mortals looked toward the heavens and murmured her name, touched their forehead to the ground and prayed for her blessing. They built shrines of stones and slatted wood, temples that stood for hundreds of years to come, and gave offerings and held festivals in her honour.

She is no longer that goddess she was once, but this boy who bears her name she will not abandon – even if all she can do is to wrap her arms around his curled form, waiting for the day she will disappear, as he waits for the day he will die.

_**End**_

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**Notes: **For those who are still confused at this point, the other Suzaku in this drabble is one of the four mythological creatures in Chinese constellations. In Japan, they are known as Suzaku, Byakko, Genbu, and Seiryuu.

Thank you for reading and please review!


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